For the benefit of my friends, enemies, stalkers, and potential murderers, here's where to find or avoid me in Nocturnal London this week.
Monday – Launch party for Modern Painters magazine, Photographers Gallery.
Tuesday – Daytime – Visiting the Gaston exhibition with my father. Evening – The Dreaded Music Quiz, Boogaloo pub, Highgate. Ms Frost's team, and at her invitation.
Wednesday – The Siren Suite, Atlantic Bar. Kash Point one-off spin-off night with classical music. 8pm to midnight, thankfully.
Thursday – NFT1 – "Teknolust". Camp sci-fi arthouse film, with Tilda Swinton. <a href="http://www.llgff.org.uk/films_details.php?FilmID=188">After party at Kash Point, the listing says</a>. Which I would go to anyway.
Friday – Visiting Ms Denitto and Ms Spivack for the Camden Mews Film Club – "Carry On Screaming".
Saturday – Ms Gonzalez's birthday party in Collier's Wood. This means I have to decline an invite to another birthday party in Finsbury Park (Mr Robin's – invited by Ms Ellen). Ms G booked me first (some weeks ago), and like all sad clowns, I must honour my bookings. There has to be a system. Besides that, I'm fairly certain I've never been to Collier's Wood before. SW19 – the path less travelled. The unkind will doubtless add "With reason."
Sunday – Daytime – Scarlet's Well rehearsal, Stockwell. Followed by my first free evening in 7 days.
The Teknolust film on Thursday night is the only event I have invited myself to, and thus have to pay. I am a great admirer of Ms Swinton and her serenely aloof, endlessly watchable features.
So, very quickly, and not quite knowing how, I find my week mapped out for me. Living on benefits I have to budget my limited finances accordingly. Being unemployed is a full-time job. I'm meant to be staying in more often, working on Fosca songs, Bid's songs, the novel, generally sorting out my clutter (both physical and mental), and chasing up possible means of getting paid for being Dickon Edwards. I will have to start saying "No" more regularly, with the utmost care, so as not to quash the possibility of future invitations. Just not this week, though. This week, I am a shamelessly grateful tart.
Still, a diary mitigates indulgence, and I shall try to write about the events worth reading about.
